


Hickey

by williamastankova



Category: youtube - Fandom
Genre: December Fanfic Challenge, Hickeys, M/M, hickey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 14:01:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16855324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/williamastankova/pseuds/williamastankova
Summary: Inspired by real life: George is caught with a hickey on his neck in Will's latest video, which leads to much speculation in the comments.(OR: Just exactly how the blooming thing got there, thanks to a little bath-water-drinking gremlin called Alex. From George's POV.)





	Hickey

**Author's Note:**

  * For [emmastrenchcoat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmastrenchcoat/gifts).



It was out now. Following Will's video, it was pretty much unavoidable. Still, acknowledging this fact didn't mean George wasn't going to try everything in his power to pretend like the slip-up never happened. Of course, by slip-up, he meant Will posting the video and not looking at the absolute state of George's neck beforehand. He most definitely did not mean that the events themselves were slip-ups, because - yes, albeit unexpected - they were completely welcome, and some of the best things he'd done in a long while.

You see, it started when Alex went out 'to celebrate the end of the work-week'. Naturally, before he left, George gave him a little sarcastic quip, something along the lines of "we're YouTubers, Alex; the weekend doesn't really count if you don't have a job in the first place", and he assumed he'd received a chuckle from Alex, and then the door to the flat shut and George was left in his room, newly alone in the flat.

Since he was younger, he'd developed a sort of... thing about being alone. No, not the usual thing, where he loathed every second, and longed for somebody - anybody - to return, so he didn't have to sit with himself. Quite the contrary, actually, because he favoured the quiet house (well, flat, nowadays) and, admittedly, used the time to do a bit of... snooping. At first, he was subtle, pretending to walk absently around whilst looking at his phone, just in case his flatmate had installed cameras or something, but eventually he divulged, throwing his phone down in his bedroom and nipping into Alex's, and searching around a bit.

Unexpectedly, Alex wasn't a massively messy guy. Sure, he had clothes lying around a bit, and maybe his bed could have been neater, but George wasn't his mum, so he had no reign to judge him for such minor things. This, to George's later dismay, led him almost straight to a notepad, which lay on the side by his bed. He'd come to learn that, no matter how long you live with someone, you constantly learn new things about them (especially when you sneak into their room and nose about when they're out), and this was one of those things: Alex was a note-taker. And, the closer George looked, not only was he a general note-taker, he was a habitual note-taker, who marked everything he had to do, buy, eat, etc. For some perplexing reason, this amused George, and he began reading off a couple of things on the list.

"Buy milk," boring; he knew they were out, and Alex hadn't - for reasons he already knew - gotten around to buying any yet. He continued reading absent-mindedly, "Get new phone charger, buy new earphones, call mum, book train tickets, record with Will, meet Tom."

George drew to the end of the list rather quickly, and it took him a few seconds to pause and reflect on that last one. He went to the five stages of grief whilst trying to recall who the man was: firstly, maybe he'd misread it. Maybe it wasn't Tom, maybe it was someone in his family's name. After re-reading it a couple of times, he surprised even himself with the little flicker of anger that ignited inside of him. Who was Tom? Why hadn't Alex told him about him? Thirdly, he attempted reason: maybe Tom was an old friend, or someone new Alex was looking to initiate into their friendship group. Then again, that wasn't likely, because if that were the case, George would know about him, and this plunged him into the saddest state yet, and the fourth stage. Fifthly, George solemnly nodded to himself, placing the small notepad back down and slipping out of his friend's room, thinking wildly to himself as he made his way back to his bed.

He was being stupid. After all, Alex was his mate, that was all, and there was nothing else going on. He was straight, he'd known that for ages. Besides, he knew Alex was bi, not that that made any difference, but it meant he could go on dates with guys for whatever. Whatever, whatever. It didn't matter. He resigned himself to sitting at his computer, pretending to his audience of none that he was editing, and tried desperately to ignore the clawing at his stomach, that he knew to be his denial, though he knew not what he was refusing to accept, and he didn't want to know.

**

Somewhere around three, Alex came back. George knew this because he heard the loud clanging of the metal of his keys against the metal of the doorknob, and then a noise that sounded like his friend falling through the door with his full weight sounded, and an 'ow' came soon after. George, having not moved very much in the past few hours, rolled his eyes, and forced himself to stand and make sure Alex hadn't hurt himself.

"Alex?" He called out, poking his head out of his door, rather cautious like a deer on a notorious highway, "Y'alright?"  
"Mmm," Alex murmured in agreement, shortly followed by a slurred, "M'fine."

Knowing tipsy-or-more-than-tipsy Alex had absolutely no gauge on his well-being, George went to the door, and found him against the door, beaming drunkenly at nothing, and then he turned his head and beamed at George.  
"George!" He called out, pushing off the doorframe and making his way over to his flatmate, dragging him down into a reluctant hug, and George only stiffened more when Alex began nuzzling his head into the crook of his neck slightly. "How's your night been?"

"Fine, good," George wanted to be as vague as possible, and didn't feel quite capable to lie in his current predicament. He pulled back from the suffocating hug, "What about yours?"  
"Ooooh," Alex said stupidly, grin returning tenfold, "It was the best!"  
"Hah, I bet it was." George couldn't help himself from laughing and retorting, and only after the words were out and in the open did he realise just how he little he was supposed to know. Thankfully, Alex didn't inquire further.

"'m going to bed," he declared instead, and made for his room, leaving George behind to pull his keys out of the door and shut it over. Without saying goodnight, Alex closed over the door to his room, and George - having a sudden rush of adrenaline - took to cleaning up some bits lying around the kitchen.

Putting some unidentified foodstuff in the bin, George nearly jumped out of his skin when he caught sight of Alex in his periphery, and the shift in the look in his eyes caught him sincerely off guard.  
"Uh, hey, Alex," he tried to act nonchalant, continuing on with his chores, only slower, "Thought you were off to bed?"

Ignoring his initiation, Alex stated, "You went into my room."  
George hoped his nervous swallow was only amplified in his head. He remained silent, but still felt the heat of Alex's gaze in his back.  
"You went into my room, and you looked at my to-do list," he went on, voice dangerously darkening. "Did you see my latest one, George?"

For such a dominant man, George had never felt so submissive. He was hardly begging for Alex's forgiveness, but he couldn't help but not argue back as he normally would have. Something about the dynamic of the situation threw him off, and so he could only reply with. "Yeah, it's cool."

Alex, apparently, found this to be funny, as he chuckled, and said, voice somehow even lustier than earlier, "Is that so? If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were... jealous."

Something about how the word was hissed, closer to his ear than the rest set George off. Spinning on his heel, he feigned amusement, and said, "Fuck off. So you had a date? I'm not that lonely, mate. I do go out, you know."  
"Mmm," Alex seemed pleased with his choice to switch their position, as he now looked slightly up into George's eyes. "But you didn't ask how it went?"  
"How'd it go?"

Alex swayed suddenly, getting closer to George. Unless the latter imagined it, which was possible, but it seemed to real to have not happened. The shorter of the two inhaled, taking in the new aroma that surrounded him, in a sort of aura that scraped _George_  into his skin. Slowly, voice as smooth as butter, which was unusual for George to hear, Alex spoke:  
"I wanted him to be you."

He then re-caught George's eyes, and switched his focus on either one, then settled on the right for a moment as he deliberated. His mouth opened slightly, and he looked as though he might ask something, but it closed quickly and he instead took to looking at George's lips. He considered something again briefly, but then his head shook lightly to rid himself of the thought and his focus moved to the exposed expanse of George's neck, tracing where his t-shirt just about covered his clavicle. Something... predatory washed over him, and he - agonisingly slowly - tipped forward, and lay his lips onto George's neck. There, when he found he wasn't being pushed away, he lay kisses briefly, and sucked gently. George knew his face flushed at the feeling of worship, but he couldn't stop - not right now - and promised he would if he felt things creeping further. For now, though, he brought his hand up to Alex's jawling and caressed the lightly stubbled skin there, thumbing primarily over his pulse point.

It was inevitable that, when Alex unexpectedly bit down and sucked his skin into his mouth, harder this time, George let out a yell and, as promised, he made himself bring both hands to Alex's chest and push him, softly but firmly, away from him. Looking into Alex's dilated eyes, George had to make himself speak.  
"No," he barely managed, voice broken. He was _so_ going to be embarrassed by this in the morning, but right now, it was all good. "Not tonight, not while you're like this."

To his surprise, Alex nodded, knowing what he meant, and retreated, bidding him a drunken goodnight, and leaving him - for the third time that night - stood, alone, in their flat. Only this time, he had a different feeling. He wasn't curious, nor was he in any of the five stages he had been before. Now, he felt excitement. A little disappointed, sure, at the loss of heat against his front, but otherwise he was ecstatic. Maybe it was because Alex had told him willingly about Tom. Maybe it was because Alex had looked like he wanted him. Maybe it was simply that he had felt the controlled loss of control for the first time in his life. One thing in his mind was for definite, however: this was not the finale, because something told him there was more to come.

So, even if Will did upload that video, which led to much speculation in the comments, it really just served as a learning curve for him. After all, judging by the look Alex gave him the next time the two of them were alone and - thank goodness - sober, this was going to be a common occurrence from now onwards, and one he could see himself getting used to.

**Author's Note:**

> While this is part of my 2018 December collection, I'd like to gift it to my good friend who manages to inspire my crazy rambling fics with her amazing longer-story ones. Thanks for all, and go check out emmastrenchcoat!! (I'm serious, you won't regret it, all you StephNE shippers... ;))


End file.
